December 18th, 2009

Zagreb, Croatia

12:27 AM

Andelko Begovich, representation of Croatia, sat in his home in Zagreb, quietly looking over paperwork in his living room. White paper was scattered over the table, and the tired black-haired man sifted through them with slow hands. After reading a lengthy paragraph about unemployment, the late-twenties looking man sighed heavily, itching his bearded face out of restlessness. He was so tired, but he had to know what he would be listening to at the meeting tomorrow with his bosses.

Deciding to take a quick break, the Croat stood from his couch and retreated to the kitchen, cringing slightly at the cold tile beneath his bare feet. He relished the smells of his kitchen; some spices he had cooked with earlier in the day, fresh bread he had bought from the bakery whilst on his way home in the afternoon. He reached into a cupboard and retrieved a glass, filling it with water from the kitchen sink. He took a drink, wetting his dry throat. Chocolate brown eyes stared at a few post-it notes placed upon the nearby refrigerator, shaking head slightly. The motivational quotes written upon them never helped, and the reminders he placed he never got around to doing.

The man took another drink of water before he set the glass down on the counter, leaning against said counter and yawning. He then moved the sleeve of his black cardigan to see the watch on his wrist.

"Christ, its past midnight… I need to get some sleep…" He muttered, reaching and grabbing his glass of water. He finished off what was left in it, and then set the glass in the sink, before heading to the living room to organize his papers and put them away. As he was placing the papers in orderly stacks in a briefcase, a soft knocking came upon the front door. At first, Andelko thought he was merely hearing things, but when the knocks came again, louder this time, he was sure there was someone outside.

He stood, curious and cautious at the same time. Who would be out this late and come to his door? He went to the front door and unlocked it, opening it to reveal a shock to his eyes and mind.

Standing before him was the representation of Serbia, Novak Novkovic. The man looked gruff, his face unshaven, his hair a mess. His clothing was wrinkled and dirtied, and… was that blood on his sleeve?

"Before you ask why I'm here, can I please come inside? I'm absolutely freezing right now." Novak stated. Andelko nodded quietly, opening the door wider for the man to step in. Novak made his way inside, and sighed a bit at the comforting warmth he most likely felt.

"Now can I ask why you're here?" Andelko questioned as he shut the door and relocked it. He turned and went to the kitchen, leaning on the counter once again. Novak sat at the kitchen island, seeming to hesitate on speaking.

"Well… I… I had to leave Belgrade." He muttered.

"What do you mean you 'had to leave Belgrade'?" Andelko asked, giving the man a slightly confused look, his eyes narrowing, brow furrowing. It was unlike Novak to be out of his borders so late.

"I got into an argument with my boss about… well… sensitive topics. He kind of hates me. He had me escorted out of the government building and, well, I decided to get out of Serbia for a while…"

"And you decided to come here of all places?"

"I… I would have gone to Montenegro, but Branko… He and I are in a rough patch in our friendship for reasons I can't begin to explain, but you… you're the closest thing I have to a friend right now. I mean, you and me… We're okay, right?" Novak's emerald green eyes were slightly bloodshot, but hopeful. Andelko debated in his mind as to how "okay" things were between himself and the Serbian representation, and shrugged, though nodding his head along with it.

"I suppose. So, you're looking for a place to stay for the night, I'm guessing?" Andelko put his hands in his pockets and meandered over to the living room to finish packing up his papers.

"Yeah… I… I'm sorry if it's a burden. I just didn't know who to go to."

"It's fine." Andelko smiled slightly. "If you'd like, you can take a shower in the hall bathroom, then head to sleep on the couch. I'll get you a pillow so you don't wake up with any neck cramps or anything. My couch isn't the most comfortable thing in the world."

"Thank you so much, Andelko… I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise." Novak said as he stood, heading down the hall. Andelko merely chuckled slightly as he shut his briefcase, heading down the hall just as Novak shut the bathroom door.

"If you need anything, Novak, I'll be in my bedroom. Feel free to wake me if I'm asleep, but I must remind you, I have a meeting at six in the morning. It should be over around nine though." He said.

"Alright. Thanks again, Andy- er…. Andelko. Sorry."

Andelko's heart fluttered at the Serbian's use of the affectionate nickname that Novak had often used when they had been together in the 70s and 80s. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly; he hadn't been called Andy in such a long time. Memories played through his head of passionate moments when Novak had used the name, but Andelko forced those thoughts out of his mind, shaking his head.

He went to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, stripping down to his boxers, tossing his dirty clothes aside in a pile on the floor. He lay down in bed, sighing heavily when his head hit the pillow. He set his alarm for five in the morning, hating the fact that he had to wake up so early.

But that was the least of his issues at the moment. The one thing that overshadowed everything else was his thoughts of Novak. How could he have thought and remembered so vividly such intimate moments he once had with the Serb? Such moments that usually occurred late at night when passions sparked flames, and so vividly could Andelko remember staring into Novak's gorgeous emerald eyes and whispering loving, tender words in the throes of such hot-blooded moments.

He mentally kicked himself for allowing some rather dirty thoughts into his mind. How could he think of Novak in such a way? It had been eighteen years since his last actual physical contact with the Serb. Why did his memories still plague him with remembrance of the former magnetism that once pulled Andelko towards him?

Andelko lay awake for what must have been an hour before he was blessed with sleep. Though through the night, he found himself waking from nightmares of the past; comparisons between his waking thoughts of the calm, peaceful, loving Novak and the cold, cruel, insane man that had ruined their relationship.

It felt like he had only been asleep for mere minutes before he was awoken by the annoyance that was the endless beeping of an alarm clock. Andelko turned over, and with half-closed eyes, turned his alarm off. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ridding himself of the blankets that covered him. The cold air hit him like a ton of bricks, and he found himself shivering.

He walked into his bedroom's bathroom and took a quick shower, allowing the water to warm his cold body. Upon exiting, he found himself frozen once again, but once he dried off and got some clothes on, he started to warm up. He tossed on his typical tan suit, with a white button-up, and black tie, slipping on a pair of black socks and some black dress shoes. He then brushed his teeth and combed down any stray hairs on his head before exiting his bedroom into the dim light of his home.

Through the dark he could see Novak sprawled out on the couch, and he could hear the man snoring quietly. The blonde Serb would probably wake up soon; it was rare, if Andelko remembered correctly, for the representation to get any sleep.

He quietly stepped over to the table in the living room, grabbing his briefcase. He would need the papers if he was going to be able to communicate with his bosses. They didn't particularly like Andelko, mainly for the reason that he pursued things that weren't quite pertaining to the recovery of Croatia's economy; he sought to gain ethnic peace between Croatians, Serbians, and Bosnians, leading by the example of trying to be friendly with their representations. Zlatko Pilav, the representation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, had been extremely antisocial in the years after the war, and was just now starting to open up to the other nations once again. The man still felt strong resentment towards Serbia though. Tensions between the Bosnian and Andelko weren't so bad; they both stood on equal ground when it came to how bad things had gotten in the 90s.

It seemed that Novak was trying to do the same; be friendlier with the other representations in order to achieve some sort of example of peace. Fifteen years had changed a lot, and hopefully the upcoming generations could learn to forgive for past events.

Andelko sighed and headed to the front door, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde haired man who slumbered on the couch. How odd it was to see the Serb sleeping in the Croatian representation's home. It was something Andelko thought he would never see.

When he arrived at the meeting, things were bustling with activity. A few arguments spurred up between Andelko and his bosses, but they were easily quelled with reason. Time passed, with next to nothing getting completed in the end, and in due time, the meeting concluded and Andelko quickly left. He was sick of politics. Sick of pointless arguments when all it took to change was a simple vote for whatever was being proposed. Was it really that difficult? Did the leaders really have to complicate things so much that they couldn't be understood?

When he got back to his home, he entered quietly to find Novak awake and talking on his cell phone, staring out a window, back facing the Croat. Andelko listened quietly, curious as to whom the Serbian representation was talking to.

"I… No, you don't understand, it's not just for… No, sir… I… No, don't pull that with me! You're the one who… No… No, we haven't. Why would we? It's been fifteen years, sir; nothing is going to happen... Do you have any clue what it's like to be beat by a guy with brass knuckles while walking the streets of Zagreb? No? I thought so… I don't care. I'm taking a vacation whether you approve or not. If he won't let me stay, I'll go somewhere else. If I have to, I'll hide out in Bosnia. I'm no safer there than I am in my own government buildings." Novak angrily hung up his phone, sighing exasperatedly. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Andelko." The Serbian man turned around, looking to Andelko, who shrugged a bit.

"I don't really care if you stay here for a few nights. It doesn't bother me any. What was that you were saying about you getting beat up on the streets here?" Andelko asked as he shed his suit coat, tossing it over the backs of one of the chairs in the kitchen. Novak sighed lightly.

"I parked my car about two blocks from here… Halfway through walking here, some guy came out of an alleyway and decided he wanted to start some trouble. He punched me a few times, but I'm experienced enough with hand to hand combat that I could defend myself until some cops noticed. They didn't recognize me, and thankfully so. They took the guy away, and I continued the rest of my way here."

"So that blood on your sleeve is from you or him?"

"Him, probably. He may have had brass knuckles, but I've got tough fists." Novak glanced down at his hands, practically admiring the bruised knuckles he harbored.

"It's sad that someone attacked you… I know you can defend yourself, but it's a bit disappointing to me. One of my people attempted to hurt you."

"Don't worry about it, Andelko. People do stupid things sometimes."

Andelko nodded slightly before deciding upon switching the topic of discussion. "Are you hungry, Novak?"

The Serbian shook his head. "I'm fine. I don't usually eat a whole lot."

"Have you been healthy despite that fact?" Andelko asked as he opened the fridge, glancing at the foods for a moment before retrieving some leftover pasta off of one of the shelves, setting the Tupperware containing his breakfast on the kitchen counter.

"For the most part. I've lost a lot of muscle since the war, though. I'm not quite as strapping as I once was." Novak chuckled a bit, flexing his biceps in a joking manner. Andelko glanced over, noting that the man's frame was looking a bit thinner than the Croat was used to seeing. The Croatian popped the Tupperware container of pasta in the microwave before turning back to Novak, who now stood only about a foot away from him.

"You sure it doesn't bother you that I'm here, Andy?" The Serbian representation asked.

Andelko sighed. "Didn't I already clarify that it doesn't bother me at all?"

"You just seem tense." Novak replied. "Especially when I get near you." The Serb took a small step forward, now only a few inches away from his former lover. Andelko felt his body instinctively tense up, staring down at the floor in order to not meet Novak's emerald gaze. Oh, how easy it was for him to fall for those eyes.

"Relax, Andy…"

Andelko's heart started beating faster with the second referral to him as "Andy". Why was Novak doing this? Why was Novak so close, saying such things as he was?

"Novak, I'm uncomfortable with you being this close." He said rather quickly. Novak tilted his head slightly, an all-too familiar half-smile on his face. Andelko couldn't bring himself to even begin to resist what happened next.

Novak closed the gap between them with a slow, slightly hesitant kiss. Memories rushed back to Andelko at the feeling of the man's lips on his own, and he let them take control, but only for a few moments.

Andelko put his hands on Novak's chest and shoved the man away slightly. "Th-This is wrong, Novak, we shouldn't be doing this. We can't. We aren't… We don't…" He struggled to form a comprehensible sentence, fighting the urges he had. His body wanted so desperately to feel the comforting warmth of Novak's arms around him, but his mind knew that this wasn't right. They had been separated for eighteen years; it just wasn't right.

"We aren't what? Married anymore? We don't love each other? You can't honestly think that I don't know you still love me… You can't honestly think that I don't still love you, even after the Yugoslav Wars." Novak reached and clasped both of Andelko's hands gently. "It's simple… We were torn apart because I lost my mind, but I'm better now… I'm not crazy, Andy. I'm not insane anymore."

"But it's never going to be like it was before the war. Ever. Nothing can ever be the same after that. All you put me through… All I wanted was to be free, but you dragged everything out."

"It was not me, Andy, don't you see? I wasn't in the right frame of mind, if I even had one at the time. It was as if an evil had taken my name and body and lived out what it wanted to happen, then gave me back my identity at the end of all that went on… You have to understand, Andy. I still love you."

The words coming from the Serbian's mouth practically broke Andelko's heart, and he found himself giving in to the temptation that beckoned him. Any logic and former pain that the Serb had caused was irrelevant. His desires; what he wanted, was now what moved him.

He pulled Novak into a kiss, pressing their lips together, igniting the spark that was needed to send the fires of passion blazing like a summer's wildfire. The kiss became heated quickly, and Andelko soon found himself stumbling with the man to the bedroom. Novak gently shoved him back onto the bed and loomed over him, smiling, bright emerald eyes meeting Andelko's own chocolate brown ones.

"It was my biggest mistake to leave you behind, Novak…" Andelko said quietly. Novak smiled, leaning down and kissing the Croat's neck gingerly.

"Everybody makes mistakes… It's what you do to make up for them that counts." He responded in a whisper, Andelko shivering slightly at the tone of the man's voice. This wasn't right for them to do this, but no one had to know what went on behind closed doors. No one had to find out what they were doing.

Andelko's desires got the best of him. That was for sure. He let Novak take him; accepted the dominance of the other man, submitted and just let Novak have his way with him. Andelko couldn't believe the pleasure he felt after so long without, but it was guilty. He was supposed to be the better man. He was supposed to be the better nation. If his people ever found out that Novak had dominated him in a single morning's fiery passion, Andelko would definitely be in deep trouble with his bosses. But damn had it felt good. Was the pleasure worth the pain of betraying a people that Novak had hurt so badly? The people that Novak had targeted and attempted to kill?

The two rested after their endeavors, and Andelko found himself waking around four in the afternoon. Novak was still passed out beside him, an arm loosely draped across Andelko's unclothed waist.

He carefully moved out from under Novak's hand, standing and retreating to the bathroom. He cringed at the pain in his lower regions as he walked, but ignored them in favor of locking himself in the bathroom and staring at himself in the mirror. He had been so stupid.

His neck had a darkened purplish mark on it; it was not going to be easy to hide without being suspicious. His body had similar love bites, but those could easily be hidden by clothing. Andelko sighed heavily, deciding that a shower may help him feel a bit cleaner. He knew nothing could wash away his guilt though.

As he stood under the warm water, he stared at the wall, memories replaying in his head like a movie. All the passionate moments from the first night they had ever done anything, to the last truly compassionate one they had in 1988. They had once in 1990, but it was almost a case of rape; it had been when Novak had started losing his mind and had forced Andelko into sex. It had not been love.

When he felt satisfied with his shower, he stepped out and dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom. Novak was awake, and standing up, in the midst of pulling on the pants he had worn the previous day.

Andelko walked over to his dresser and retrieved some clothing, getting dressed silently.

"You sore?" Novak asked. "I'm sorry if I was a bit rough."

Andelko shook his head. "I consented to everything you did… don't apologize."

Novak walked over, almost hesitantly wrapping his arms around the man's waist from behind. Andelko let himself be held. Any comfort, even if it were from the man who plagued his mind with confusion and betrayal, would be welcomed.

"I… I love you, Andy." Novak muttered, kissing the side of the man's neck tenderly.

"… If I tell you that I love you too, it would be a great injustice to my people… This entire day has been an injustice to my people, Novak. Don't you understand? We… We can't be like this anymore. We can't be affectionate or caring like we were before the war… We're supposed to hate each other, because our people feel that way. It's been eighteen years, but that's eighteen years of grieving and recovery from a war that shouldn't have happened…"

Novak moved one of his hands up and placed it over Andelko's heart, where a scar lay. "It is different now than it was then… It is no longer a wound, but a scar…"

"But it is still Vukovar. I cannot forgive you for what you did to my people… the massacre will not be forgotten. I bear that scar for a reason. You caused it. You tried to kill me."

"And I am truly sorry for what I did. You know that if I had been sane, I would not have hurt you, or anyone for that matter. I would not have been as cruel as I had. I was not myself, Andy, you must understand that."

"I know you weren't yourself mentally, but physically it was still you. I remember so vividly, you smiling as you jammed the knife into my chest. I remember so vividly; it was you. It was not any other man but yourself… Your eyes were different though; they showed your insanity… They were not bright and enlightening as I know them to be… They were dark and evil… I was afraid of you. I was afraid to lose you."

"And yet you fought so agonizingly against me."

"It was the will of my people. I couldn't stand around while they wanted freedom. I couldn't stay with you when they are what I am. I represent them, Novak, just as you represent the Serbs."

"I know that… but there were times when I questioned your sanity, Andy. Times when you were unjust. There was no need to shoot me in the leg towards the end of the war. I was already losing."

"And there was no reason for you to command those who you were put in charge of to attack my people."

"I told you, Andelko, I was not myself. That was not me whom ordered those soldiers to kill."

"Even so. I know towards the end you regained some sanity, albeit slowly. It is impossible to say that you weren't partially of mind when you made such orders as you did." Andelko sighed slightly and turned around to face the Serbian representation. "For those times, I can never forgive."

"You may not forget or forgive me, but can't you move on from the past, just as I have tried? I feel it is best to move towards the future than revert to the past."

"It is not that simple, Novak… You don't remember everything you did. You don't remember the Srebrenica Massacre. You don't remember the Vukovar Massacre. You don't remember the Škabrnja Massacre. Lovas. Bruška. Ahatovići. Bijeljina. Prijedor-"

"S-Stop, Andy, please…" Novak sounded on the border of tears, eyes downcast and glossy. "I know that I did wrong. I know that I participated in quite a few massacres… I-I… If I could take it all back, I would." The Serb looked up at the bearded man, a few tears streaming down his cheeks. "I promise you, Andelko Begovich, I'm not the same man that I was during the war… I-I'm not a killer… Not to Croats, not to Bosniaks, not to anyone…"

"What about Kosovo?"

"I… I never participated in any killings in the Kosovo War, believe it or not… I stayed in Belgrade the entire time… That's why you never saw me at meetings until 2000 hit… I was avoiding the fighting after realizing all my wrongs in the Yugoslav Wars."

"… You and Kosovo still don't get along, especially after his proclamation last year."

"It's only natural… but… Andy, you have to understand where I come from on every matter that separates us… The wars… the pain… Everything. I wasn't myself until it was all over… I wasn't myself until I had lost everything that mattered to me."

"You had Montenegro."

"He changed after the war. He was not the same man that I knew before. He was more worried about the man he once loved; Bosnia. Don't you remember that those two were torn apart by the war too? All that I did to Bosnia and all that happened to him made all his memories of times prior to 1990 disappear and become repressed… He didn't, and still doesn't, remember ever being in a relationship with Montenegro. Crna Gora… I feel bad for him. He truly loved Bosnia. Just as you and I truly loved each other."

"We still do, but we can't ever let it show outside of closed doors. We can't ever let anyone know that today happened… It's best we never do this again. At least, until there is a calmer air between our nations. This is an injustice to our people at the moment, Novak, and we can't be seeing each other. It's only been eighteen years… Wait another twelve, and see if something has changed, because I know, eventually, we will be able to show love again, but for now… For now we must abide by our people."

"Could I still stay here for the next few nights, Andelko? I'll sleep on the couch."

"You may stay, but I don't want you sleeping on the couch… Sleep with me while you're still here. I don't want you thinking that I hate you, even after this discussion."

Novak's lips curved into a genuine smile, and he leaned forward, softly kissing the Croat. "Thank you." He murmured against the other's lips. Andelko smiled, chuckling slightly.

"You're welcome… Now…" The Croatian man thought for a moment. "Wow, do I feel stupid."

"Why?"

"That pasta I was supposed to eat for breakfast is still in the microwave."

Novak laughed. "Care to share it with me? I'm kind of hungry now too. Neither of us has eaten all day."

"I don't care at all. Come on."

Even though Andelko knew that these were going to be a nice few days, the guilt of letting Novak back into his heart after he thought he had turned it to his people still clouded his mind. This was something that would bother him until Novak left.

Then he would attempt to forget, and never forgive. Novak did not deserve forgiveness from Andelko for all that he had done against the man.

Novak did not deserve it.